


malcolm bright was many things

by ace_abi



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Eating, Eating habits, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Pre-Canon, malcolm doesnt eat enough and i need it to be addressed by the show, mostly - Freeform, this definitely isnt based off personal experiences nope no way not me, this is my first time publishing a fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_abi/pseuds/ace_abi
Summary: Malcolm Bright was many things, but an adventurous eater was not one of them.He wasn’t quite sure when it started, only that it was some time after his father’s arrest, but eating gradually got harder for Malcolm.--just a short fic about malcolm not eating enough and a little pre cannon part
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	malcolm bright was many things

**Author's Note:**

> warning !! i do describe headaches , nausea and the short term effects of not eating enough  
> this is from my own personal experience and i know that reading this stuff can bring on symptoms in myself so read carefully if this applies to you as well
> 
> okay so this is my first time ever publishing a fic as well as my first time writing a short fic and not a really long one  
> i've only watched s1 but i swear there was dialogue about malcolm only eating liquorice like this or something - if not just pretend there is   
> i've also never eaten red vines so we're just gonna hope its accurate

Malcolm Bright was many things, but an adventurous eater was not one of them. 

He wasn’t quite sure when it started, only that it was some time after his father’s arrest, but eating gradually got harder for Malcolm. 

Malcolm was always confronted by the impossible lack of description the English language offered for sickness and pain. Talking to people about his experiences was already hard enough, but explaining why he couldn’t finish this dish, I’m so sorry Mrs Arroyo - it’s very nice I just can’t finish it, was particularly challenging. 

Malcolm constantly felt like a sore thumb - for the obvious Surgeon in the room. This had gradually ended after he changed his name and people stopped assuming they knew everything about him because they’d caught the end of one documentary or another news story. But there were some things he couldn’t hide; not necessarily identifying traits, just things that separated him from the general population. 

His shaking hand like waves lapping in the ocean, the nightmares that plagued him (sometimes before his head had even met his pillow) and the Herculean task of eating. 

It was just impossible to describe to other people that he couldn’t eat because it made him feel as if his brain was expanding and his skull shrinking, his stomach swinging within his own body, like the weight of the world was pushing down on him before he even stood up. 

And, sure, most days it was manageable. Most days he could leave the house before the inevitable wave of nausea attempted to shackle him back to bed. And most days he could reach the station before wanting to let his body go limp and crumple on the pavement in front of him. Sometimes, Malcolm thought that his mother had referred him to ballet classes just so he could learn how to deal with the pain. 

But, some days, just a few, the bite of the air was a degree too different or the car took too many swift turns or maybe he just woke up (sometimes that was all it took) and the lack of food in his system threatened to destroy him. 

Jessica had tried every technique under the sun. Trying to bribe him with the criminal psychology books she resented, hiring the best chefs money could buy to make the most extravagant dishes imaginable, making the most basic toast-based dishes herself. She begged and she pleaded with him to just eat some food Malcolm please, you’re just skin and bones. But it never worked. 

He just couldn’t. It was so hard to articulate the strain it put on his body to give it the thing it needed. He just… couldn’t. 

It was a few months after Dr Whitly’s arrest that she finally caved and called Gil. Jessica wasn’t sure if she approved of his and her son’s relationship yet, or even if she understood it. But the man had filled a role in Malcolm’s life, helped him in ways she couldn’t. He was someone her son could look up to. 

Gil had rushed over quicker than she’d expected. His hair was dishevelled and he was still in the uniform he would soon be shedding due to his recent promotion. But he came. 

Jessica walked him through the house, stopping just outside Malcolm’s room. “He’s still not eating?” he asked, voice soft as to not alert the boy in question. 

“I’ve tried everything. I just… I need him to eat.” Gil merely nodded at Jessica’s plea before knocking on the door and walking through. 

“Hey, kid.” he began. He didn’t expect a reply, he’d come to learn not to expect a reply. 

“I know it's hard, but we’re worried about you - your mother and I.” Slowly, Gil bent down so that he was eye level with the boy. Malcolm was curled up, hugging his duvet to himself. He looked so weak, so tired, that Gil could almost feel it too. 

“I’m not asking you to finish a 16 course meal: just, try something?” 

Malcolm gently raised his hand to pick something up off his bedside cabinet. Gil wasn’t sure what until he heard the rustle of plastic. 

The wrapper of his trademark lime green sweets. 

Guilt hit Gil like a tonne of bricks. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t have any today.” He wished he did - wished with every ounce of his being. If this was the only thing Malcolm would eat, and he couldn’t give it to him, couldn’t help, he would never forgive himself. 

Reluctantly, Malcolm returned his head to the safety of his pillow, shrinking back into the duvet. 

“But, you know what I do have?” Pulling a larger plastic wrapper from his pocket, Gil procured a packet of liquorice, some own-brand version of red vines. He was going to eat them on the stakeout he’d just come from, thankfully managing to give the case to another officer, but this was infinitely more important. 

Gingerly reaching over, Malcolm pulled one of the strings from the open packet. He raised it up to his mouth and tentatively bit into it - the smallest bite, like a mouse. 

Surprise flew across Malcolm’s face whilst chewing before he opened his mouth and… spoke. 

“It tastes like… strawberry?” 

Relief washed over Gil at the sound of the boy’s hoarse voice. It was so nice to hear him say something, anything, other than the descriptions of his barely father’s crimes. Gil could still imagine him saying “you should take out your gun”, but the command was swiftly being replaced by the sound of Malcolm’s appreciative hums at the sweet he had already finished. 

Outside, Gil could hear Jessica’s cry of joy, could feel the ease she felt at her son’s voice, because he felt it himself. 

Deciding not to make a big deal out of what was the most important thing that had happened to him in years, Gil brought his hand up to rest on Malcolm’s neck and replied “Yeah, they’re strawberry flavoured. Want another?” 

Malcolm nodded. And so began a long night of the boy eating all of Gil’s stakeout snacks. 

On his way back home, Jessica stopped Gil at the door. Malcolm had fallen asleep between the pair as they sat up to watch a kid’s film on the expensive TV which definitely cost more than Gil would deem reasonable. 

“Thank you,” was all Jessica said before she rested her head on Gil’s shoulder. Her gratefulness was almost palpable as the officer wrapped his arms around her. 

“No problem.” he murmured solemnly. “You’ll call me if you ever need to again.”

“I will.” she paused, “I suppose I better buy a couple thousand more packets now.” 

“I suppose.” Gil laughed gently. 

Malcolm Bright was many things, but most importantly, he was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) and don't be like hateful in the comments or anything please and thank you


End file.
